OBJECTIVITY AND RESPONSIBILITY IN MORAL EDUCATION • b y Elizabeth Reilly B.Ed., McGill University, 1984 M.A., Concordia University, 1991 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Department of Educational Studies) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard. THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA February, 1998 © Elizabeth Reilly, 1998 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. Department of £LducafVor^o,| SWA authority. The consensus of the community is its own highest authority. In relation to the community itself, then, as distinct from its constituent members, linguistic rules are not prescriptive but descriptive. (Lovibond, 1983, p. 57) An argument similar to Wittgenstein's is made by Quine, describing what he calls a "pull toward objectivity." Quine's suggestion is that this "pull" is brought to bear on each individual during the process of learning language as a child. To communicate with others we have to learn to "regiment" our linguistic responses to sensory stimulation so that they conform to the way that language is used by members of our group. Quine gives the example of the concept of "square." Although different observers will each see a slightly different 76 phenomenon, given their position relative to the square object, nevertheless they will each call it square if each one grasps the concept correctly. A concept is more objective, according to Quine, if more people will tend to agree on how to use it. Lovibond notes three implications of this line of argument. First, acquisition of language is obviously a socialising process. We teach our children to be adult participants in our discussions by getting them to see things our way. A competent participant is one who no longer needs to be corrected or supervised. Second, in attempting to be objective we try to occupy a position as near as possible to the position of the "ideal observer." Obviously this cannot be because experience has shown us that one or another observational standpoint is more adequate for understanding reality. Rather, it is because reality is defined as the way things look from the position of the ideal observer. The ideal observer turns out to be the person of sound judgement, as determined by the community in question. This point will become more important when I look at how to resolve disagreement between different worldviews. Finally, the person who initiates a child or a student into the discourse, the person who exerts the "pull towards objectivity," is necessarily in a position of authority over the initiate. When a child is being initiated into the linguistic community, there is a more obvious relationship of authority between the child and the teacher. The "pull" for children is often material. Adults are still "pulled" however. Authority over adults may also be material but more frequently it is intellectual. Often the 77 norms implicit in a community's linguistic and other social practices are upheld by sanctions imposed by the community on deviant individuals. This authority will vary from context to context—nt may be one's professional peers, one's social group, or newspapers and television reports which tell us what it is appropriate to believe and how to understand it. As.Lovibond puts it, our aim in talking about the objective world is not to say something acceptable to the powers that be, but to say something true. If we held that no one could legitimately correct anyone else's judgements we could not think of what we said as being answerable to truth. This would leave us in the same position as the non-cognitivists (Lovibond, 1983, p. 61). Our proposed theory of ethics, in short, is a realist theory in that it asserts the existence of intellectual authority-relations in the realm of morals, whereas non-cognitivism denies these. (Lovibond, 1983, p. 63) • Being part of a linguistic community does not mean being ruled by it. It means inserting yourself into the historical process of using moral language. Disagreement The second important implication of Lovibond's argument is how to resolve differences between people from differing belief systems: Lovibond 78 reminds us that according to Wittgenstein, alternative belief systems, whether they succeed each other in time or co-exist in different places, cannot resolve disputes by recourse to a foundation or to a higher authority. From the view of an outsider, such systems do not even lend themselves to evaluative comparison in terms of truth, rationality, or moral worth. When a belief system is changing, when certain of its social practices are in flux, there may be a breakdown or a lack of consensus regarding the proper way to act or to think. The individual in this situation has a relatively greater amount of autonomy to decide, and this decision may set a precedent and have an impact on the developing consensus. On the other hand, when two systems contradict each other, participants can engage each other rationally, each one attempting to convert the other to her or his own perspective. Any evaluative judgement regarding a particular worldview must be made from a particular standpoint; i.e., from within its own commitments to a worldview. As Lovibond says, the mere act of committing oneself to a (would-be) objective judgement already displays one's allegiance to certain intellectual authorities (Lovibond, 1983, p. 140). It seems at this point as if the Wittgensteinian perspective is no different from that of the non-cognitivists: since there is no moral position outside of its own commitments, there can never be a means to judge between two opposing positions. Given a dispute and no impartial judge, it is the more powerful disputant who will win. 79 Non-cognitivists resolve this issue by saying that empirical disputes are solved by consulting the higher authority which is the real world. In moral matters, non-cognitivists maintain that there is no higher authority and therefore no way to judge. Wittgensteinians respond by arguing that empiricism must be rejected because there is no deciding authority external to the linguistic community. Realism, both in the physical world and in the moral realm, can only be retained once we stop looking for such an authority. The important difference between a non-cognitivist response and the one proposed by Lovibond is that the latter view does not place a participant to a dispute under any logical obligation to withdraw the claim of truth from cherished beliefs. I have frequently said to my students, "Of course I think I'm right; if I thought I was wrong, I would change my mind." As Lovibond puts it, "It makes perfectly good sense to assert of another person that he has failed to grasp the force of a valid argument against his own mistaken view" (Lovibond, 1983, p. 152). Lovibond shows that Wittgenstein's arguments encompass both relativism and absolutism. The relativist view is that such disputes must be understood as conflicts between partisans of rival theories for control over relevant social practices. The absolutist-view is that no philosophical considerations can undermine my inclination to say that my theory is true and others are false. 80 Habermas and Discourse Ethics In the two volumes which make up his Theory of Communicative Action, Habermas offers a theory of moral justification in which public discourse is used to defend the validity of norms and thereby to resolve moral disagreement. Habermas argues that the only norms we can call valid are those to which all concerned people agree or would" agree as participants in practical discourse. Habermas explains what it means to raise validity ciaims and how one must go about defending them, distinguishing.between three "worlds" of validity claims Cognitive claims are defended through objective criteria based on their truth; these correspond to "fact" claims about the physical world or scientific knowledge. Normative claims are those developed and accepted within a . society by consensus; they are defended through social criteria based on their "rightness" which is negotiated through social and moraldiscourse. Finally, : expressive claims are defended through subjective criteria; these are claims about the inner self and can only be judged according to their sincerity as demonstrated in narratives of character and self-reflection, the ability to . distinguish between the three worlds, Habermas argues, is nothing more than the ability to distinguish between types of validity claims. It follows, therefore, that from an epistemic standpoint there is no difference between the kinds of arguments we use to justify truth claims and the kinds of arguments we use to justify normative assertions. Normative claims are analogous to scientific claims 81 insofar as both are defensible only by appeal to reasons accepted by the community. . Rationality To understand his argument, it is important to understand both what Habermas means by rationality and what his rules are for legitimate public discourse. Following Mead, Habermas argues that we are not first individuals who become social agents only because of .our decision to engage with others. Instead, Habermas understands identity to be socially derived and socially mediated. Language is the medium in which identity is constituted. Our rationality is inseparable from'our identity. For Habermas, rationality must be principled. Following Kohlberg, he argues that normative claims must be supported by reasons and by principles. Like Kohlberg's theory, Habermas's theory of communicative action is formal, cognitivist, and universalistic. It is formal in that the burden is shifted from the content of judgements to their form. Habermas is not interested to prescribe a particular content to social norms; one purpose of his theory is prescribe a method of discourse which will be more likely to lead to genuine communicative action. It is cognitivist in that moral conflicts are understood to be resolved by argument and as in Kohlberg's theory, it is understood that there are successive levels of competence in communicative action. Finally, it is universalistic in that Habermas claims that the form of reasoning at a given stage is identical in any 82 culture. But unlike Kohlberg, Habermas argues that monological rationality is not adequate; legitimate normative claims must be developed and defended through public discourse. Moral law cannot be determined by an individual. Habermas uses the term rationalisation to mean the development of the internal logic of particular modes of societal action co-ordination. Habermas distinguishes between two kinds of societal rationalisation which correspond to two categorically distinct modes of societal integration, which he calls "lifeworld" and "system." The distinction is based on whether social co-ordination depends on or bypasses the consciousness of individuals in their capacity as agents. In plain language, "lifeworld" corresponds roughly to the social or cultural context in which an individual acts. Lifeworld rationalisation takes place in the domains of cultural reproduction, social integration, and socialisation. In the lifeworld, co-ordination of action takes place primarily by means of communicative action. System co-ordination, on the other hand, bypasses the action orientations of individuals. System rationalisation refers to co-ordination of actions oriented towards success. These may be instrumental, if they are non-social, or strategic if they are social. In other words, action co-ordination at the level of the system may involve instrumental action, which is non-social, or it may involve strategic action, which is social. So it is possible to identify two kinds of societal action co-ordination. Communicative action is action that is taken with the purpose of reaching understanding. Strategic action, on the other hand, is undertaken with the purpose of attaining a particular instrumental or 83 strategic goal. Communicative action is accomplished in the lifeworld, while strategic action is accomplished in the system. In plain language, communicative action involves engaging with other people in respectful and equitable ways. Strategic action, which is oriented to success rather than understanding, can result in treating other people merely as means to a goal. Habermas moves from an account of the historical separation of lifeworld from system to an account of the uncoupling of the subsystems of economic and administrative activity from the lifeworld: This uncoupling eventually results in the colonisation of the lifeworld by the system (Cooke, 1994, p. 6). Habermas argues that in modern societies the communicatively structured spheres of the lifeworld have become increasingly subject to the imperatives of system co-ordination. This results in the colonisation of the lifeworld by the system! Social action, according to Habermas, can either be co-ordinated by consensus, which is typically the means used within the lifeworld and corresponds to communicative action, or it can be co-ordinated through influence, which is typically the means used within the system and corresponds to instrumental or strategic action. Only communicative action has the potential for social resistance and ultimately for emancipation. Habermas understands objectivity to be possible only when an individual is able to gain a measure of distance from the social group to resist the pull towards consensus. To gain the objectivity necessary for evaluating the norms of a social group, an actor must gain distance from particular social roles and 84 recognise that all roles are structured by shared social norms. This view corresponds to Kohlberg's post-conventional level of moral development where individuals are capable of moving beyond the group's view of what constitutes correct action. Only from the post-conventional perspective is it possible to question the norms of one's own group. So, objectivity must be attained somewhere beyond the consensus of the group. Furthermore, Habermas argues that the legitimacy of norms must be grounded in justifiable, universalizable principles rather than in claims they bring about a desired way of life. Such objectivity is only possible under the specific conditions of discourse which Habermas outlines. Public Discourse The purpose of Habermas's discourse ethics, as Benhabib summarises them, is to "preserve the rational core of a normative claim, and resist assimilating it into a statement about the world (naturalism) or a statement about my own preferences (emotivism)" (Benhabib, 1989, p. 150). Moral justification amounts to a form of moral argumentation which follows the particular rules of legitimate public discourse, which Habermas names "D." Habermas appeals to Kohlberg, maintaining that D corresponds to the moral experience of post-conventional moral reasoning. This is the stage at which a disjunction occurs between "social acceptance" and "moral validity." s 85 As Habermas presents it, egalitarian reciprocity is embedded in the very structure of communicative action. All communicative action entails symmetry , and reciprocity of normative expectations. The two fundamental rules of D are first, that we ought to respect each other as beings whose viewpoint is worthy of consideration, and second, that we should treat each other as concrete human beings whose capacity to express this viewpoint we should enhance by creating, whenever possible, social practices embodying this discursive ideal. Benhabib (1989) explains how rationality and freedom entail each other within Habermas's theory. She argues that a claim of rationality entails the belief that those to whom such a claim is addressed can be convinced that the claim is indeed rational. Rationality claims thus entail the possibility of free assent. Assent given under conditions which violate the free exercise of such assent cannot be deemed rational. She argues that if inegalitarianism is to be "rational," it must seek the assent of those who will be treated unequally, but to seek such assent means admitting "others" to the conversation. If these "others" can see the rationality of the inegalitarian position, they can also dispute its justice. Therefore, either inegalitarianism is irrational, that is, it cannot win the assent of those it addresses, or it is unjust because it precludes the possibility that its addressees will reject it (Benhabib, 1989, p. 153). Habermas argues that by exchanging speaker and hearer perspectives we learn to justify claims of truth, or of authenticity. Thus, reciprocity is built into our development as communicative agents, and it is built into our understanding 86 of rationality. Benhabib acknowledges that many people consider Habermas's model hopelessly Utopian, but she responds that the purpose of D is not to draw a blueprint for a well-ordered society. Rather, the purpose is to develop a model of public dialogue such as to demystify existing power relations and the current public dialogue which sanctifies them. Braaten (1995, p. 142) suggests that by defining the ideal consensus as one in which no point of view is excluded or arbitrarily discounted, Habermas points out that the confidence one has in being freely and openly convinced of the best arguments is also the basis of genuine social mutuality and trust, as well as that of democratic and just institutions. Stout, while acknowledging that Habermas is a profound social critic, is one of those who, as Benhabib suggests, considers the Theory of . Communicative Action hopelessly Utopian. He argues that searching for the kind of "moral Esperanto" that Habermas wants is a waste of time. The problem with universal languages, Stout maintains, is that almost no one speaks them. Nevertheless, Habermas's project, as Benhabib argues, is useful in identifying those issues which are prevented from becoming public because of existing power constellations; in identifying those groups that have not had access to means of public expression and advocating their inclusion in the discourse of legitimacy; in distinguishing between genuine agreement and pseudo-compromises based on the intractability of power relations; and in saying what is in the public interest as opposed to the universalisation of what is only in the interest of a particular group (Benhabib, 1989). Concluding Questions The question of moral objectivity is central to the argument I am developing. My concern is to discuss the responsibility of a moral agent in discovering objectivity and acting to increase it within her or his community. These three theorists have differing views which nonetheless overlap in important areas. All three believe, in opposition to emotivist moral theory, that a person develops as a moral agent only in the context of a moral community, and that language, developed through initiation into a linguistic community, is the medium within which thought develops. Lovibond draws attention to the relationship between a competent participant in discourse and the initiate; this is a discussion I will return to in Chapter Five. Lovibond and Habermas are both concerned with conceptions of objectivity and the means for achieving it. Lovibond is concerned to answer questions about what the objectivity of knowledge claims consists of. She argues that objectivity is discovered in the consensus of the community and that initiation into the group as a competent participant entails a pull towards what the community takes to be objectivity. Habermas has a different concern. He explores what the individual ought to do in order to maximise objectivity. He argues that objectivity can only be achieved when a moral agent is able to respond from a post-conventional perspective and see beyond the perspective of the group. In Chapter Four I will address these questions and suggest that 88 the pragmatist account offered by Stout is a responsible solution. I will revisit Harding's conception of strong objectivity and argue that a commitment to it can be a useful means of achieving a post-conventional distance. I will also take up the discussion Benhabib begins regarding the role discourse ethics can play in the development of a just community. I will argue that the ideal of strong objectivity can play an important role in the responsible development of such a community. 89 CHAPTER FOUR: How to Work Towards Strong Objectivity in Moral Discourse and in Moral Disagreement In the preceding chapters I have offered the main premises of my argument. This chapter and the next will suggest the practical work I believe follows from a commitment to strong objectivity which can be used both in the development of a moral point of view, and in working as a moral educator. I argue in this chapter that commitment to the ideal of strong objectivity offers us both a means for undertaking the revision of our moral perspective and a set of standards according to which we can more responsibly understand and respond to alternative moral positions. It helps us gain the post-conventional distance from our own position that Habermas calls upon us to do, and it challenges us to listen to voices from the margins of a particular moral discourse. Strong Objectivity Revisited In Chapter One I argued that while the feminist standpoint theories do have important insights to offer with regard to knowledge production and the material position of the knower, they do not convince me that the position of the oppressed or marginalised voice grants epistemic privilege to the knower because of her or his marginality. Standpoint theorists argue that both the dominant position and the marginal position are partial; commitment to a given 90 worldview, which is a prerequisite to any inquiry, will put limits on what counts as knowledge. But standpoint theorists argue further that the marginal position is less partial; different standpoint theorists offer different reasons why this is so. Harding argues that the starting point of standpoint theories is that in societies stratified by race, ethnicity, class, gender, sexuality, or some other such distinctions shaping the very structure of a society, the activities of those at the top both organise and set limits on what they can understand about themselves and the world around them (Harding, 1993, p. 54). My argument, in summary, was as follows. First, we have to acknowledge that all knowledge is constrained by the material position of the knower; and an individual develops knowledge only in conjunction with the community to which she or he belongs. Second, people who have more power are in a better position to tell the world what their understanding of it is, through teaching, publishing, and related activities. People with less power therefore will possess their own understanding of a particular situation, but they may also learn the perspective of the dominant position. My point is that the position of less power does not itself generate a less partial understanding, but individuals who occupy such a position have access to both views and for this reason have access to a broader understanding of both the content of the knowledge and the social relationships which lead to the development of the claims. They are able to develop a broader understanding of the content of knowledge claims because they have access to both the claims of the dominant view and the claims made from their 91 own, marginal position. They have access to a broader understanding of the social relationships which lead to the development of knowledge claims because they can learn the explanations both from the position of the dominant group and from their own, marginal position. Because they see such relationships from both sides, they are in the best position to understand them.7 This is important to the argument I am making because if the voices "from the margins" are likely to have a broader rather than a narrower understanding of the problem, an investigator has not only a moral but also an epistemological responsibility to draw those voices into the discourse. Here is an example of what I mean. Within a graduate department, let's say, the faculty will advertise what they take to be the curriculum and they will discuss in committees the various forms and the content of this curriculum as it exists and as it is to be developed. The students may well have a different understanding of what they are learning, both on the level of the explicit curriculum and on the level of the implicit curriculum. The students will know what the faculty understand to be the explicit curriculum, but the faculty will be very unlikely to know what the students think, insofar as the students' view diverges from the "official" curriculum. To take this example a step further, among the students there may be very different understandings of the purpose 71 am not arguing that the view from such a position will ensure the most complete understanding of the relationship. Harding writes, "The epistemologically advantaged starting points for research do not guarantee that the researcher can maximize objectivity in her account; these grounds provide only a necessary—not a sufficient—starting point for maximizing objectivity" (Harding, 1993, p. 57). 92 of various courses, exams, or related activities, depending on whether the student is male or female, is straight or gay, has the language of the university as a first language or has another first language, is a national of the country or is a foreign student, and so on. In every group of students that meets to discuss their department, there will be one or a few perspectives which everyone tacitly knows are more "legitimate"—and people whose understanding is different know to keep quiet. As I discussed in Chapter One, standpoint theorists want to argue that the marginal positions grant access to "less partial" knowledge. The argument, at its root, is that a subordinate has reason to try to critically understand her or his superior's attitude and position, while a superior has reason not to question these things. In Chapter One I argued that there are also good reasons for someone in the subordinate position to resist a critical examination of the relationship. I argued that while it may be true that individuals in positions of relatively less power may have a broader range of insight, it is because they have access to both their own and to the other's, not because their own is epistemically privileged. The difference is subtle, but I believe it is crucial. Despite my rejection of the basic premises of standpoint theory, I have argued that Harding's conception of strong objectivity offers us reminders of where to look for problems while maximising objectivity in the development of knowledge. It means looking not only within an argument to ensure that its premises are true and that its conclusions are responsible. It means also 93 looking outside the argument to the purpose it serves in supporting the .. surrounding elements of the perspective within which the argument arises. Furthermore, it requires, as Harding puts it, placing the subject of knowledge on the same.critical, causal plane as the objects,of knowledge (Harding, 1993, p., 69). Thus, strong objectivity requires what Harding calls "strong reflexivity." Strong reflexivity calls for the subject of knowledge (i.e., both individual and context/community) to be considered as part of the object of knowledge. In practice, it means examining not only the knowledge claims which are made but also who is making them and what the claim-maker's purposes are. This program of strong reflexivity is a resource for objectivity, in contrast to the obstacle that "weak" reflexivity has posed to weak objectivity: Harding writes: All of the kinds of objectivity-maximising procedures focused on the nature and/or social relations that are the direct object of observation and reflection must also be focused on the observers and reflectors—scientists and the larger society whose assumptions they share. (Harding, 1993, p. 69) Harding argues, as a standpoint theorist, that a maximally critical study of scientists and their communities can be done only from the perspective of those whose lives have been marginalised by such communities. I will agree with 94 Harding on this point, and below I will relate this to Habermas's argument that objectivity requires post-conventional distance from the norms and conventions of the community. Harding argues, and I think Habermas would not disagree, that a commitment to strong objectivity requires scientists and their communities to accept democracy-advancing projects for scientific and epistemological reasons as well as moral and political ones. She uses the conception of democracy employed by Dewey: that "those who will bear the consequence of a decision should have a proportionate share in making it" (Harding, 1993, p. 71). Harding argues: It is clear that not all social values and interests have the same bad effects upon the results of research. Democracy-advancing values have systematically generated less partial and distorted beliefs than others. (Harding, 1993, p. 71) .- - ^ . • But that does not make the results of such research value-neutral. It will still be the thought of this era, making variously distinctive assumptions that later generations and others today will point out to us. Pragmatism and Consensus The pragmatist view of knowledge is important to my argument in two ways. First, pragmatists refuse to dichotomise facts and.theories, and they 95 therefore understand that knowledge is created by communities rather than by individuals. A discussion of the responsible development of "epistemological communities" (to use Nelson's term) will be central to the argument I am developing. Second, pragmatists refuse to dichotomise facts and values, and this ability to treat the justification of fact claims and value claims in much the same ways allows me to argue that strong objectivity is as valuable an ideal in the moral sphere, and for the same reasons that Harding calls for its use in the scientific world. It is appropriate, therefore, to revisit pragmatism and, in particular, the pragmatist understanding of consensus development. The pragmatist view of knowledge, as I showed in Chapter Two, accepts that knowledge is created by communities rather than by individuals. Pragmatists argue that the shared nature of knowledge changes the way we should treat any idea of the correspondence between knowledge and reality. But Pragmatists do not adopt the position taken by standpoint theorists that a responsible description of inquiry must take into account the relationship between the material position of an inquirer and the theories and commitments such an individual brings to the act of inquiry. Pragmatists argue that knowledge is constructed by groups of people together, but stops short of suggesting that it is relevant whether the group in question comes from a position of relative privilege or relative oppression vis a vis other communities. Nevertheless, Dewey argues, as I outlined in Chapter Two, that responsible inquiry requires a commitment to the democratic ideals of inclusion, 96 equality, and respect. My argument is, first that a responsible community of inquiry must act to include as many voices as possible and respect particularly those at the margins, and second that a community must treat every other community with respect. I believe that Putnam, for example, would agree, but what is missing from his account is an explicit recognition of the importance of the material position of various groups participating in the discourse. I am not, obviously, arguing that any sets of community standards must be accepted. In moral communities no less than in scientific ones different claims and different directives can and should be evaluated and either accepted or rejected. But, through a commitment to respect and to the reflexivity Harding links with strong objectivity, inquirers in both moral and scientific realms can responsibly evaluate both claims which seem foreign and criticisms of claims which might otherwise be taken for granted. Putnam (1987) writes that while our concepts may be culturally relative in the sense that they are arrived at through the actions of our cultural group, it does not follow that they are simply "decided by culture." I argued in Chapter Three, following Lovibond, that when two systems contradict each other any evaluative judgement regarding a particular worldview must be made from a particular standpoint; i.e., from within its own commitments to a worldview. The mere act of making a judgement already displays one's allegiance to certain perspectival commitments and these*commitments are themselves prior to any rational inquiry. As such they are not open to rational defence. Nevertheless, 97 as Lovibond argues, it makes perfectly good sense for me to say that someone else's argument is not valid or is based on faulty premises even if the person in question does not accept my judgement. Recognising that competing claims which flow from opposing worldviews cannot be resolved by recourse to either foundation or a higher authority does not place the participant under any logical obligation to withdraw that position. We have a responsibility to refuse the tempting pull towards relativism, not only because it does not help our own theories to grow, but also because it brings us dangerously close to dismissing challenging criticisms to our own worldviews by saying they are "just the opinion" of another community. Putnam says that we evaluate our theories, both scientific ones and moral ones, based on how well they serve us. Like our artifacts (he uses the example of the knife) we create better and worse theories only insofar as they suit our purposes to a greater or lesser extent. Like Lovibond, Putnam argues that at a certain point the rational justifications for our claims give out. At this point we must say, with Wittgenstein, "Here my spade is turned" (Wittgenstein in Putnam, 1987, p. 86). So—we cannot resolve disagreement, whether it is moral or scientific, when it arises between worldviews which start from different fundamental commitments. And we cannot resolve such differences in commitments because the commitments are themselves not subject to rational disagreement. But we can nevertheless develop our own knowledge traditions more responsibly if we are willing to acknowledge the involvement of other voices. A commitment to 98 strong objectivity can remind us to acknowledge these other voices and to grant them appropriate respect. It cannot help us determine if they are correct; we still have the traditional tools of evaluation available for this. But it can.help us resist the urge to dismiss them or to rationalise them, away. The measure of our respect in practical ways is a difficult matter. Of course, genuine respect will normally result in new and more inclusive ways of treating the actual people who speak with the "voices" I have been describing. But a lack of evidence in real world for changes in attitude does not mean the change in attitude has not occurred. I will return to this in Chapter Five when I discuss the problem of ascribing "militant ignorance" to someone whose behaviour I judge not to conform to the attitudes or beliefs of which I hope to convince the person. i "Distance" and Objectivity In Chapter Three I offered Habermas's argument to the effect that, objectivity is only possible when an individual is able to resist the pull towards consensus that is applied by any community. The individual must gain a measure of distance to look back upon the community and make judgements. Habermas maintains that in order to be in a position to evaluate the norms of one's own social group, an actor must be capable of a Kohlbergian post-conventional level of reasoning, where it is possible to separate one's conception of "the good" (one's sense of moral validity) from the norms of the community and the desire for social acceptance. The means for evaluating such 99 norms is public discourse resulting in communicative action. Communicative action, as Habermas defines it, always has the goal of promoting understanding, and it entails both respect and egalitarian reciprocity. Habermas argues that rationality and freedom entail each other. While Dewey's position that inquiry and democracy entail each other is set in a different context, it is nevertheless in keeping with Habermas's argument. Harding maintains that democracy-, advancing values have systematically generated less partial and distorted beliefs than have other values, and again her position is in keeping with these other two. Habermas disagrees with the pragmatists over ways to measure the legitimacy of social norms. While Putnam argues that our best norms are the ones that work best for us, i.e., the ones that bring about for us the best way of life, Habermas argues that the legitimacy of norms must be grounded in justifiable, universalizable principles. I criticised the pragmatists earlier for not taking account of the importance of the material position of various groups participating in discourse. I would suggest a similar criticism of Habermas's. theory: he does not take enough account of the variety of material positions represented within a community. Stout suggests that Habermas is Utopian in his vision of ideal discourse. I would prefer to use the term idealist. In his ideal discourse participants treat each other with reciprocal respect. But actual participants in actual discourses are constrained by more power relations than even they themselves can understand. No actual discourse can function in the too manner of an ideal one. While Habermas does not suggest that it can, neither does he offer the kind of analysis of material positions that I believe is so powerful in the arguments of the standpoint theorists. Strong objectivity, I would argue, offers us a means, not for overcoming the material position of participants in moral discourse, but for understanding and responding to these positions. It can help us gain the post-conventional distance we require to evaluate our own norms as Habermas calls upon us to do. It does this by requiring that we consider, in Harding's words, the subject df knowledge as part of the object of knowledge. What this means, as I conceive it in this context, is that the moral agent and the fundamental commitments of the moral agent be examined as closely as the moral claim or program. When we consider ourselves and our community as part of the objects of inquiry we are at the post-conventional level of inquiry for which Habermas calls. A commitment to strong objectivity also requires us to take particular account of those voices at the margins of our discourse and to make a particular point of considering them with respect. As I suggested above, this will very often be evident in changes in the way the business of knowledge creation is carried out, for example, we will see changes in things such as resource allocation, physical space, and the manner and content of academic discourse, among other things. Strong objectivity reminds us that the position of the margin offers a greater vantage from which to view the arguments or claims at the centre. 101 Again, my argument is not that the marginal position is epistemically privileged, but that the voice at the margin is most likely to be bi-or multilingual. A commitment to strong objectivity challenges those at the centre of moral discourse not only to listen to the voices at the margins but also to learn to take on the perspective8 of those at the margins. Lovibond argues, without using the same language, that we have to be careful how far we take the kind of strong reflexivity for which Harding calls. Lovibond notes that both Quine and Wittgenstein maintain that if we throw out too much of our intellectual furniture at once, we cease to have a habitable world-view at all (Lovibond, 1983, p. 109). She says that we have to be cautious in our attempts to gain "distance" from the consensus of the group which, for her, constitutes objectivity. It is in fact a matter of experiment how much we have to "accept"—how far our "agreement in judgements" with other members of our community can be dismantled by critical thinking before we begin to be in danger of losing the sense of our own identity, or of ceasing to be able to occupy the position of a subject of judgement. (Lovibond, 1983, p. 203) I agree with her that in practice individuals risk losing the "insider" view when they adopt an alternative view. But it seems to me that people can shift between 8This is not always a change in moral perspective. It may entail a change in how we consider evidence, in what we consider to be worthy objects of inquiry, or any number of other things. 102 perspectives. It is not that their fundamental commitments change, but it is possible to understand and follow the logic of a perspective which stems from commitments which you either do not accept or would not prioritise in the same way. We use empathy or sometimes our own memories of earlier commitments to do this. But Lovibond also argues, as I outlined in Chapter Three, that initiation into thinking is always at its beginning a coercive undertaking. It is worthwhile at this time reiterating her position. Language acquisition, which is intimately tied to the development of more complex thought, is always, in her words, initially manipulative: "We" are a body of people who have all been subjected, as children, to a basically similar process of training in the use of our native language. Arid this training is, at any rate in the initial stages, manipulative in character: it essentially involves the exercise of certain powers of control over the learner. To the extent that it eventually ceases to be manipulative, this happens because the learner comes in the course of his training to internalise the goal set before him by his trainers, viz. acquisition of a knack (or complex of knacks) of producing the same behavioural responses as other people in given circumstances. , But what is both historically and logically prior to this sort of co-103 operative learning process is an operation in which coercion has the central place. It is in virtue of our having been subjected to this original, coercive type of training that we. can be said to belong to a community which is bound together by a common education. (Lovibond, 1983, p.55-56) So, according to Lovibond, initiation only ceases to be manipulative once the internalisation is relatively complete. I will discuss in Chapter Five ways in which I think a responsible educator should deal with this, but here I would like to suggest that strong objectivity can provide a means for students to respond to this manipulation and, as they develop maturity and autonomy, to become more competent to resist it (providing they are not indoctrinated by an unscrupulous teacher—but this problem I will also save for the final chapter). The ideal of strong objectivity challenges the inquirer, in this case the student, to consider not only the content of moral claims but also the context in which they are held and the context in which they were taught. For example, I believe that a commitment to strong objectivity calls upon me, as a teacher, not only to offer arguments in favour of gender sensitivity, multiculturalism, and related topics, but also to explain my politics to my students as clearly as I can so that they have a context for understanding the positions I am trying to persuade them to accept. For their part, I believe that a commitment to strong objectivity requires that my students resist dismissing out of hand arguments that stem from political, 104 moral or other commitments they do not share. Thus, a commitment to strong objectivity requires from both myself and my students the Kohlbergian post-conventional reasoning that Habermas calls for, and it also makes possible a responsible dialogue which is at the core of communicative action.9 Discourse and Objectivity In Chapter Three I summarised a number of positive effects that Benhabib says result from the application of discourse ethics. Benhabib''s views in this regard are very close to those of Habermas. I will repeat them now to show how strong objectivity offers a useful means for realising them. First, Benhabib says that legitimate public discourse is useful in identifying those issues which are prevented from becoming public because of existing power relations. A commitment to strong objectivity requires that those in power take account of the partiality of their view and recognise that the issues which focus on the lives of members of marginalised communities deserve no less attention than those issues which have an impact on them. Here is an example. A few years ago a lunch was held to mark the visit of a feminist scholar. There were a token number of graduate students (myself included) and a token number of men invited. The conversation ranged over a variety of feminist topics, including the Of course, in the example I offer here I am considering adult students. A teacher of children has far greater persuasive power and is at a far greater risk of coercing students. It is a delicate matter of judgment for the teacher to decide how much of her or his moral/political perspective the children are capable of comprehending. 105 disappointing trend among young women to disavow feminist values and particularly to refuse to call themselves feminists. I was thinking about a friend of mine; a mother who does not call herself a feminist although to my eyes she exhibits all the values and most of the insights I associate with feminism. I offered the suggestion that my friend feels abandoned by feminism and feels that her decision to mother her children full-time is not granted respect from the feminist community. The response was, "Don't be silly, of course we do. Now, as I was saying..." I wouid suggest that the ideal of strong objectivity, employed consistently, would help to avoid such dismissal by requiring that the "agenda setters" take account of less fashionable or less powerful views. I am convinced that if my friend had been present at the lunch she would have remained silent. The legitimate public discourse Benhabib is calling for requires changing this type of dynamic. Strong objectivity offers a means for realising such a change, and it offers a set of standards or criteria for recognising the need for it. Second, Benhabib argues that legitimate discourse is useful in identifying those groups that have not had access to means of public expression and advocating their inclusion in the discourse of legitimacy. The strong reflexivity ' that Harding argues is entailed by strong objectivity again provides a means by which to achieve this inclusion. Strong objectivity as a standard challenges us to attend not only to those arguments which fit into our constellation of beliefs, but also, and perhaps particularly, to attend to those which make us feel uncomfortable. It is easy to rationalise away claims which, if true, would cause 106 us to rethink some of our central beliefs. A commitment to strong objectivity calls upon us to treat opposing views and different worldviews with the same respect we accord our own. Those with relatively greater power should always represent those views which exist at the margins of our discourses, and when appropriate, to advocate for them even if they are less fashionable. It will be up to the individual to decide, in keeping with her or his own commitments, when such advocacy is appropriate. Third, Benhabib argues that legitimate discourse helps us in distinguishing between genuine agreement and pseudo-compromises based on the intractability of power relations: In her article titled "The Silenced Dialogue: Power and Pedagogy in Educating Other People's Children" Lisa Delpit (1988) offers this example of a Black male graduate student who is also a special education teacher in a predominantly Black community talking about his experiences in predominantly White university classes: There comes a moment in every class where we have to discuss "The Black Issue" and what's appropriate education for Black children. I tell you, I'm tired of arguing with those White people, because they won't listen. Well, I don't know if they really don't listen or if they just don't believe you. It seems like if you can't quote Vygotsky or something, then you don't have any validity to speak about your own kids. Anyway, I'm not 107 bothering any more, now I'm just in it for the grade. (Delpit, 1988, p. 280) To engage legitimately, we have to recognise the difference between assent and silent resistance. Too often what passes for consensus is merely a silencing of opposing views. Benhabib's formulation of Habermas's discourse requires that we resist this. According to the ideal of strong objectivity, this would be unconscionable. Finally, Benhabib argues that legitimate discourse helps us to see what is in the public interest as opposed to universalising that which is only in the interest of a particular group. Delpit's paper concludes with a discussion of how members of the more powerful community can listen to and hear the voices of members of marginalised communities. She argues that such listening requires opening not only our eyes and ears but our hearts and minds as well, because we do not really see through our eyes or hear through our ears, but through our beliefs. She continues: To put our beliefs on hold is to cease to exist as ourselves for a moment—and that is not easy. It is painful as well, because it means turning yourself inside out, giving up on your own sense of who you are, and being willing to see yourself in the unflattering light of another's angry gaze. It is not easy, but it is 108 the only way to learn what it might feel like to be someone else and the only way to start the dialogue. (Delpit, 1988, p. 297) Delpit is pointing to the same strong reflexivity for which Harding argues. Legitimate public discourse requires a recognition of the power relationship even when it is uncomfortable to acknowledge one's own privilege. Again, strong objectivity provides both clues as to how to do so and a standard against which to measure whether this reflexivity is being achieved. Summary In this chapter I have discussed the ways in which strong objectivity can provide both criteria for recognising flaws in the development of one's own moral perspective and a means for avoiding the perpetuation of such flaws. I have argued that a commitment to strong objectivity helps us develop the post-conventional distance which is required of a morally mature position. It does this by reminding us to look beyond the content of our moral claims to the uses that these narrower, more practical claims serve in realising a broader moral perspective. Further, as a standard, it reminds us that our claims, whether scientific or moral, serve moral and political purposes, so it challenges us to look beyond what seems to be neutral or seems to evoke a consensus. I have also argued that a commitment to strong objectivity helps us devise strategies for developing the legitimate discourse for which Habermas and 109 Benhabib argue. It does this by reminding us of the partiality of our own position and calling upon us to consider alternative positions with respect. The ideal of strong objectivity reminds us not to dismiss less powerful or less fashionable claims, especially ones that are particularly troubling or challenging to our own view.10 It reminds us to recognise the difference between assent and silent resistance. And it reminds us to notice the difference between what is in the shared public interest and what is only in the interest of a particularly vocal or otherwise powerful group. Obviously, the development of a mature and responsible moral point of view is a prerequisite for legitimate moral education, but this alone is not enough. In Chapter Five I will discuss some of the practical activities which follow from a commitment to strong objectivity. I will discuss ways for a moral educator to acknowledge and respond to the power relationship that exists between a teacher and a student. 1 0 Of course, we also have to resist dismissing more powerful or fashionable claims, although this is a less common problem. 110 CHAPTER FIVE Strong Objectivity and Responsible Moral Education To be a good moral educator one must be a morally mature person. A moral educator must be well justified that her or his moral perspective is the most adequate one available. I have argued in earlier chapters that the ideal of strong objectivity provides a set of standards for assessing the adequacy of a theory or of a perspective in both the scientific and moral realms. In Chapter Four I showed how a commitment to strong objectivity can help a moral agent assess the adequacy of a given perspective, and nurture its development in responsible ways. In this chapter I will discuss the specific problems that may arise in moral education and the ways in which a commitment to strong objectivity can help to avoid or reduce these problems. Moral Education Legitimate moral education, as opposed to training in habits or indoctrination in dogma; requires two things. First,-the educator must enable the student to develop existing rational capacities. This is part of any genuine education, of course, not only moral education. In Chapter Three I outlined Lovibond's argument that initial education is always coercive, but I will argue here that this coercion need not lead to indoctrination. Moral education must go beyond training students in moral, habits and appropriate use of moral language. 111 Although initially this is how it will look, such training should be seen as only the first part of a child's moral education. In the second part of this chapter I will take up Lovibond's argument and discuss what I mean by indoctrination. The second requirement of moral education is initiation of the student into a constellation of moral knowledge, attitudes, and practices. For a young child, this means guiding her toward the paths used by the adults in her moral community. For an older student or adult, it,means challenging him to adopt, at least at its most fundamental level, the moral perspective of the community into which he is being initiated. The most useful thing strong objectivity has to offer moral inquiry, I argue, is ari understanding of the partiality of one's own perspective and a means for seeing how a given perspective distorts one's perception. Strong objectivity offers a means for evaluating the adequacy of one's own perspective, as I argued in Chapter Four, and for comparing it to others' perspectives. Perspective Shifting Individuals can, and I argue we often do, shift between two or more moral perspectives from time to time in our lives. It may be that a person with a different view tells us a story or relates an experience that gives us insight and allows us for a moment to enter into that perspective. Alternatively, through, discussion or argument we may be brought to the point of seeing the world through another's eyes. Sometimes this insight stays with us, in which case it 112 may be said that our perspective has changed. Sometimes, though, the shift is only momentary. We might forget the links between compelling arguments, or we might see flaws in an argument that we believed when it was first persuasively argued, or the change might be simply too radical for us to accept. We shift back. If the new perspective is not genuinely more adequate, then we might do well to relinquish it. If, on the other hand, it does hold insights that are superior to some of those in our old perspective, then we have a responsibility to incorporate those insights. This will mean altering our original perspective— perhaps broadening it or perhaps letting go of some elements. Because thjs process of learning from others' perspectives is central to revising and enriching our own, and because this revision and enrichment is an ongoing process, and because we can never know that we have a perfect understanding either of our own perspective or of the social constraints affecting it, it is the responsibility of a moral educator to be prepared at all times to undertake the revision I am describing. It is also the responsibility of a moral educator to make students aware of their own responsibility in evaluating the perspective being offered to them, and to undertake to revise their own when that is appropriate. Moral educators, indeed any educators, not only have the responsibility to ensure that their perspective is the most adequate, they also must guard against disrespect or dismissal of perspectives that contradict their own. Particularly when groups of students engage in moral discussions, where there is more room for disagreement among students and more tolerance for disagreement, 113 teachers may become frustrated with what seems to be students' lack of willingness to agree. It is certainly true that some students disagree without having the best reasons to do so, but it is also true that in some circumstances it is the teacher who must revise a moral position in response to something that has been learned from the students. At this point, I will introduce the term "militant ignorance." I think it is a useful concept for describing a certain type of resistance that teachers face. I also think it is worthwhile discussing it in some detail because Ibelieve that teachers (as well as many others who engage intellectually but are unsuccessful in persuading) are often too quick to attribute militant ignorance to the one who refuses to agree or acquiesce. While this may seem a digression, I ask the reader to bear with me. The link to strong objectivity will be explained presently. "Militant Ignorance" First, I will take for granted that sometimes people are not willing to engage. This can happen between teachers and students or between any two people who are party to a discussion. I may pretend to engage while refusing to open my mind (I am not engaging but merely acquiescing), or I may be very . clear in my resistance to engagement. This can be militant ignorance or it can be the result of refusal to engage based on morally sound reasons. I will return to this later. 114 But if two people do engage intellectually, it seems to me that there may be four results. (I will continue to use the language of teacher and student although! want to make it clear that I think the same thing can occur in any number of contexts.) (1) The two may simply agree. (2) They may simply disagree. (3) The student may disagree at first but later come to agree with the teacher, perhaps upon reconsideration of the argument, or perhaps as the result of some new evidence or superior logical consideration. (4) The student may agree at the time of the argument but later disagree. This final possibility, (4), is the one I am most interested in here. It comes about, as far as I can see, in one of four ways: (a) The student understands at the time of the argument, but later forgets parts of the argument and ceases to understand. The argument stops making 11 sense. (b) The student was persuaded by the argument, but later thinks of additional evidence or superior logical considerations that force a reconsideration of the argument. The student now sees that the argument is not sound. (c) The student realises (with a greater or lesser amount of conscious thought) that if the argument is sound, radical changes will be necessary to her life. She does not want to change her life, so she pretends the argument is unsound, or she pretends that she does not understand it, or she pretends that 1 1 Sometimes this is directed by self-interest beneath the level of full awareness described at (c) below. . 115 she is justified in ignoring it for pragmatic reasons (I will offer an example of this below). After pretending to believe for a little while, she actually comes to believe and no longer has to pretend. This is "militant ignorance," as I conceive it. Genuine ignorance is different in that the pretence is not present at any stage. Militant ignorance may also exist, as I noted at the start of this section, when someone refuses even to consider an argument or investigate a situation when they have reason to believe that their commitments are in danger. Apart from being unwilling to change one's life, there may be other motivations for militant ignorance. Pressure from other students or friends might be important; either pressure not to challenge the commitments of the group, or pressure not to engage with the teacher at all. For younger students, there may also be pressure from parents not to adopt certain positions no matter what arguments are offered in favour of them (d) The student understands the argument and agrees with it in principle, but sees the futility of the practical applications of the argument and so continues to behave, for pragmatic reasons, as though the argument were unsound. An example of this might be a student teacher who continues to grade his students even though he is convinced that grading is an unsound pedagogical tool both morally and practically. To someone else this may seem like an example of either (2) (the student disagrees), (4b) (the student agreed but has changed his mind), or (4c) (the student is militantly ignorant). My point 116 is that it is possible to agree with the argument but continue to grade anyway, or, to put it another way, you can agree in principle but not be moved to action. Any intellectual engagement requires rational deliberation within a context of moral and/or prudential commitments. To pretend to divorce rationality from one's commitments masks the power of the commitments and is not entirely honest. As I tell my students, "It's the ones who pretend to be neutral that I want you to be most concerned about." ' If you and I are disagreeing, we may also be disagreeing about which of the above processes is occurring. If lam the one trying to persuade and you are the one deciding whether to agree with me, I obviously have a certain level of commitment to my argument. I am not disposed to think it is unsound, and I am not disposed to believe that my arguments are not compelling. So I am less likely to believe that you disagree for good reasons (4b). I am more likely to think that you have not clearly understood me or not fully appreciated how compelling my arguments are due to some combination of my lack of clarity and your lack of familiarity with my argument (4a). If we continue to engage, and we continue to disagree, I will be less and less disposed to think it is because I am unclear or you are not familiar with my argument, it is possible that I may come to believe that you agree but have decided not to act on your belief for pragmatic reasons (4d), and I may approve or disapprove of your decision. More likely, though, I will see your lack of agreement as evidence of your militant ignorance which might arise either because you have decided not to engage or because 117 you have engaged and agreed with me but decided to ignore your reasons for -agreeing. From your perspective, of course, it is I who am misguided, possibly as a result of my own militant ignorance. Who can arbitrate this disagreement? We might call upon a host of "dispassionate" observers, but each of them will (if not before hearing the arguments, then certainly afterwards) reach a conclusion based upon her own commitments. None of these is necessarily in a better position than either you are or I am to judge. I am not arguing that there is no right answer, but simply that we must be very careful in our judgements regarding the extent to which our opponent is militantly ignorant. I reach two conclusions from this. First, as a moral educator, I must keep a vigilant watch over my own militant ignorance, insofar as this is possible. I must examine my beliefs in relation to my fundamental commitments, and my actions in relation to both. This is a much more difficult task than examining other people, whether my colleagues or friends or my students, for examples of where their behaviour (as I perceive it) does not cohere to my commitments. I also think it is more morally responsible and more epistemologically responsible than the latter. A commitment to.the ideal of strong objectivity challenges us to undertake this self-evaluation as teachers. It reminds us that while sometimes it is our students who are resisting our very sensible arguments, at other time it is we ourselves who are refusing to grow morally from the perspective to which we have become accustomed. 118 Second, and this follows from the last part of my first conclusion, what seems to be militant ignorance to me may actually be any combination of denial, lack of understanding, lack of energy to engage, and lack of power to act. I am not able to judge the extent of militant ignorance in anyone's mind except my own. (And I may not be very well qualified to judge there either!) In this context, strong objectivity works best when it is applied in aid of developing one's own position. It is dangerously tempting to try to use it against a perspective contradicting your own, but to do so would be not only ineffectual but counter to the spirit of respecting alternative positions. I do not mean to suggest here that one's own view is always at the mercy of any other that comes along. Being open-minded obviously does not mean being credulous. But the most we can do as educators is offer our students the best methods we have for developing a responsible moral position and the best example we can of how moral growth occurs. Education vs. Indoctrination Moral educators have a variety of methods available for challenging students to revise their moral positions; these methods may be more or less morally legitimate. Two things are required for the education to be morally legitimate, and they are the same things required for the conception of legitimate public discourse I described in Chapters three and Four. First, the engagement must be free in the sense that the student is engaging rationally and is respected 119 as a person. This requires that the student not be indoctrinated. Second, the educator must have good reason to believe that the "conversion" is toward a morally superior view. In Chapter Three I outlined Lovibond's argument that language acquisition, which is intimately tied to the development of more complex thought, is always initially coercive in nature. Children have to be taught which words and which grammar are appropriate within their group. Becoming a competent participant in the discourses of the group requires internalising these rules and learning how to apply them in novel situations. Thus, the initiation only ceases to be coercive when the internalisation is relatively complete. But an initiate who is indoctrinated never escapes the results of this coercion. An indoctrinated person's will is never directly overridden. Instead, the person believes something and thinks that he has chosen to believe it. It is not possible to avoid coercion in initial moral training—you teach a child that certain behaviours are acceptable and certain others are not. Hopefully, as the person matures he becomes more and more capable of questioning early teaching. The core linguistic concepts obviously cannot be questioned; one would lack the language to do so. Similarly, fundamental moral commitments can only be questioned and defended in relation to each other. A commitment to racial equality makes sense only in relation to a commitment to equality or to respect for humans, and these in turn make sense only in relation to each other or to other commitments. But what students can question as they mature is the relationship between such 120 commitments and the actions that follow from them and are justified in relation to them. There can be a variety of arguments about what course of action is entailed by a given commitment or set of commitments. Students can question spurious arguments which erroneously link certain commitments. Consensus I argued in Chapter Four that we cannot resolve disagreement, whether it is moral or scientific, when it arises between perspectives which start from different fundamental commitments. We cannot resolve such differences in commitments because the commitments are themselves not available for rational defence. They can be explained or discussed, but there are no rational arguments which will persuade someone to change such commitments. We are initiated into them together with all of our concepts. There is no way to choose rationally between competing fundamental commitments, but an understanding of strong objectivity offers a means for understanding why we hold the commitments we do. An understanding of intersubjectivity and of consensus is central to the conception of objectivity with which I am working. Lovibond argues that consensus is the same thing as objectivity—that it is the highest objectivity available to us. Habermas argues that we must gain a certain distance from the unreflective consensus of our group to achieve objectivity, and a means for doing this is public discourse which includes as many participants as possible. 121 The problem, I believe, is in two different uses of the term "consensus." "Bad consensus" is the kind that Habermas wants to avoid or move beyond. It is associated with universalising what is in the interest of the dominant group and arguing until everyone who does not agree is quiet. It looks like consensus, and it looks as if it comes about through co-operation, but it obviously does not maximise objectivity, nor would Lovibond suggest that it does. This "bad consensus," I believe, is what Habermas wants us to develop beyond, and I have argued that strong objectivity gives us a means for doing so. "Good consensus" on the other hand, the kind that Lovibond equates with objectivity, requires both identification with the perspective of one's group (and, as I have argued, it is impossible to proceed with any investigation at all in the absence of such a perspective) and also the ability to step beyond the group's perspective and look back upon it to evaluate it. Lovibond does not use the language of post-conventional moral reflection that Habermas does, but she discusses the difference between being part of a linguistic community and being ruled by it. She argues that we must insert ourselves into the historical process of using and therefore developing our moral language. It seems to me that the most important type of moral judgement we have available to us from the post-conventional perspective is not the ability to "dispassionately" evaluate between competing moral commitments; rather, it is the ability to match the practices of our community,with the commitments we hold. This will often require noticing the ways we typically rationalise (I am using the term with its more common 122 English negative connotations, not in the sense in which Habermas uses it) the disparity between what we say we believe in and how we act. Achieving "good consensus," in the way that I am using the term, does riot mean going along with the way that people around you talk and act; it means adhering to the commitments into which you have been initiated by your moral community and pointing out the inconsistencies between these and the way you might be tempted to talk or act. A commitment to strong objectivity helps us to noticeways in which our perception of these rationalisations might be cloudy, and it reminds us to continue to search for others' perspectives in illuminating such discrepancies. A commitment to strong objectivity invites us to challenge our own privilege and to share power in the development of our moral community. This might mean, for example, learning from or at the very least listening respectfully to the perspectives of students or other less powerful voices. • Practical Suggestions Moral educators have the responsibility of challenging their students to , revise their moral perspectives. I have argued that to do this in a morally legitimate manner, teachers must engage their students rationally and treat both them and their views with respect. I would like to offer a few practical suggestions for challenging students to revise their moral perspectives. I am not aiming these suggestions at students of a particular age or level. I believe that 123 what I am suggesting could be developed in more curriculum-specific ways. My intention is to offer general guidelines only. First, moral educators can encourage students to elaborate and clarify their fundamental commitments. Although, as I have argued, these are not subject to rational defence, each person can describe them and can decide if they cohere to the commitments of the moral community to which she belongs. In some ways this is a similar strategy to the "values clarification" exercises proposed by Raths, Harmin, and Simon (1978) among others. "Values clarification" approaches to moral education arose from a desire to avoid indoctrinating students; and they therefore focused only on articulating values and not on defending them. The strategy was criticised on the grounds that' students were never encouraged to re-evaluate their own positions, and it was easy for them to dismiss others' as "just your opinion." My suggestion is to ' employ the strategy of encouraging students to articulate their values, by which I mean their very practical statements about appropriate moral behaviour. From here, a teacher can direct students to work backwards to the fundamental moral commitments which underpin their moral behaviour. A commitment to strong objectivity can help students to recognise discrepancies between what they say they believe and what their actions seem to demonstrate about their beliefs. It does this by challenging students to recognise what is motivating their action and to attend to the observations others offer regarding how their behaviour is perceived. It can also remind them to listen to their peer's values with respect, 124 and to be prepared to engage with others' views in a public discourse of the kind I described in Chapter Four. So, for example, in a class which may otherwise be dominated by a small group of students who are capable of silencing or dismissing views which contradict theirs (a number of likely candidates for membership in this group come to my mind, but I will let the reader decide who to imagine), a commitment to strong objectivity would require avoiding both. In a class full of students who are all committed to strong objectivity, discussion will be respectful and participants will engage intellectually with each other in the full sense of putting their commitments (occasionally and temporarily) to the background in order to understand those of their colleagues. Beyond encouraging students to consider each others' views, a moral educator can engage with a student using the language and commitments the student uses, and then offer arguments which are slightly more sophisticated than those articulated by the student. This is similar to the strategy of "+1 reasoning" suggested by Blatt and Kohlberg (1975) for use within Kohlberg's understanding of the development of moral reasoning. Kohlberg's theory is firmly rooted in a Piagetian understanding of stage development, and as such, the concept of "+1 reasoning" is defined as reasoning which is exactly one stage beyond that from which a student operates. What I have in mind is far less dependent on a rigid understanding of stage development or of the means of fostering the disequilibrium Piaget says is the necessary prerequisite for development to the next stage. I am merely suggesting that a teacher can offer 125 different ideas or different means of articulating the student's ideas which are new and intellectually challenging. Stories and examples of situations that the student has not considered are good places to begin. With a commitment to : strong objectivity, the teacher may have a better idea of where to look for "blind spots" the students may have, remembering, of course, the danger I suggested earlier of making assumptions about the student's moral perspective. A commitment to strong objectivity also gives, the students incentive to consider the teacher's alternative viewpoint fully before rejecting it. -Finally, a moral educator can point out, or encourage students to notice contradictions between the commitments to which a student adheres and the way communities are run. For example, if in a classroom there is general agreement that we are committed to equality, it is responsible to ask how many of our practices are consistent with this commitment. What does a commitment to equality require? How far in that direction are we as individuals or as a community willing to go? Conclusion: Responsible Moral Education I suggested in my introductory chapter that every teacher is a moral educator and that to be a responsible moral educator requires two fundamental things. First, a responsible moral educator must nurture the student's developing moral sensibilities. This entails preparing students to take their part as competent adults in the life of their moral communities. It means initiating 126 students into the constellation of moral knowledge, attitudes, and practices (including critical practices) accepted by the adult community of which they will be a part. It also means setting an example and encouraging students to accept the challenge to be vigilant in ensuring that the moral positions they adopt are the most appropriate ones available. Furthermore, it entails refusing to indoctrinate the student because the development of the student's rational autonomy is a necessary part of that student's moral development. Second, a responsible moral educator must strive to make sure that the moral perspective which the teacher offers as an example to the student is the most responsible one available. So moral educators need a method forjudging the adequacy of their own moral perspective and of comparing it to others. I have argued throughout this thesis that the most useful insights that strong objectivity has to offer moral inquiry are an understanding of the importance of acknowledging the partiality of one's own perspective and a means for seeing how a given perspective distorts one's perception. I have shown that the ideal of strong objectivity, as Harding employs the concept, both offers a set of standards towards which we can strive, and suggests means for working towards these standards. I have argued that strong objectivity offers moral educators criteria against which to compare the adequacy of their own moral perspective, and that.it suggests ways to ensure the responsible development of one's own moral perspective. 127 Chapters Four and Five set out the main points of my thesis; specifically, the ways in which I believe a commitment to strong objectivity can help in the development of a moral point of view and can help a moral educator decide how to act. I argued that a commitment to strong objectivity offers us a standard according to which we can more responsibly understand and respond to alternative moral positions, and reminds us of where to take practical action for undertaking revision of our moral perspective. It helps us gain the post-conventional distance from our own position that Habermas calls upon us to do, and it challenges us to listen to voices from the margins of a particular moral discourse. This solves the second part of my initial problem: that moral educators need a method forjudging the adequacy of their own moral perspective and of comparing it to others. The ideal of strong objectivity provides the basis of that method. I further argued that strong objectivity offers moral educators the means to avoid or overcome a number of problems which might arise during their work. Because of the inequality of the relationship between a teacher and a student, and because moral education is always initially coercive in nature, moral educators must vigilantly avoid attempts to indoctrinate their students and must work against the tendency to dismiss students' contrary positions or accuse students of militant ignorance. Moral educators can provide the best possible example of open-minded inquiry, and they can initiate their students into the kind of legitimate discourse for which Habermas argues. This resolves the first part 128 of my initial problem: that moral educators must nurture the responsible development of their students' moral sensibilities. With a commitment to the ideal of strong objectivity, educators have a standard against which to assess techniques, and are reminded of pitfalls to avoid. In Chapters One, Two, and Three, I offered evidence for my conclusions. In summary, my premises were as follows. (1) While it is misguided to believe that the standpoint of the oppressed grants access to a position of epistemic privilege, nevertheless there are both moral and epistemological reasons to attend to arguments which arise from less powerful or less fashionable perspectives. (2) In the development of scientific knowledge, Harding's conception of strong objectivity is an ideal against which we can usefully evaluate an existing program of research. (3) It is appropriate to treat scientific knowledge and moral knowledge in the same way to evaluate the adequacy of a paradigm and to choose appropriate means for knowledge development, (4) Knowledge, both moral and scientific, is developed not primarily by individuals but by epistemological communities. An understanding of knowledge development therefore requires an understanding of the social context in which it exists. (5) Initiation into a moral community is always initially coercive in nature. I suggested at the outset of this thesis that the process of learning from others' perspectives is central to revising and enriching one's own perspective, and this revision and enrichment is an ongoing responsibility. I am convinced, and I hope I have convinced the reader, that through the application of strong 129 objectivity to moral theory building, a moral educator can be justified in believing that her or his own moral perspective is the most adequate one available. 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